Unveiling the shadows
Developing a Shadow Work practice + Some of my favorite ways I'm celebrating Winter Solstice
I watch the shadows unveil themselves across my off-white ceiling. It’s still the dark morning and I can barely see the outline of the trees through the back windows. I’ve decided to light a few candles instead of turning on the lights and sit for a while with my coffee to wait for the late sun to appear. She does but she is greyed by the clouds and still, the songbirds recognize her. I brave the cold and open the window to hear them better. Our plum tree finally stands bare with just a few leaves exposing the scurry of my feathered friends. Winter has come and I find myself needing an additional measure of courage to venture outdoors. Head-to-toe raingear now hangs close to the door for my daily walks. Dirty towels, patterned with paw prints are strewn about the house. Navigating the winter months as a dog owner in the Pacific Northwest demands patience and relinquishing the desire for a tidy home. But it is the darkness that requires much more of me these days.
There is an extraordinary and mysterious quality to the winter darkness. Its profound blackness brings to mind the Sitka Sound in Alaska, where the water is so deep and dark that visibility extends only a few inches below the surface. I once feared the darkness. As a child, I would surround my bed with stuffed animals and fortress myself from any threats. Yet, they could never barricade the imagination, it ran wild with monsters that lurked in dark corners. Now in my forties, the shadows have assumed a new form. They no longer need dark corners to hide, they can appear even within a sunbeam. These shadows are black shades of grief, suffering, and my easily wounded ego. They remind me of innocence lost and wounds gained. They are my ignorance, selfishness, and the false self I’ve spent a lifetime propping up. The shadows come in thoughts and even sometimes in dreams. But the shadows are not here to frighten or shame us, they come with wisdom, albeit a hard-won wisdom.
The Winter Solstice is a season of deep introspection, also known as Shadow Work. During this season, our inner shadows become more pronounced, bringing forth our egos, false selves, and persistent thoughts with heightened intensity. Personally, I find my anxiety tends to peak in winter, and I feel the need to kick up the self-care a few notches. Despite the challenges, our shadows serve as profound teachers, presenting us with a choice: We can ignore their presence (which can feel effortless during the busy Christmas season) or we roll up our sleeves and get to work. Ignoring their presence however, means missing a valuable opportunity for self-discovery, a crucial element for the evolving soul. Without engaging in periods of self-reflection, we risk perpetuating old patterns and habits. The journey toward self-awareness may feel like a slow, painful crawl, but the benefits far outweigh the discomfort, even if our hands get a little messy along the way.
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